


‘Tis the Season

by sewer_seance



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, Multi, Queerplatonic Relationships, same apartment building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:27:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewer_seance/pseuds/sewer_seance
Summary: A series of shenanigans with QP Les Amis in no particular order. All of them are tenants in the same building and it’s the holidays!~Part of the Les Mis Holiday Exchange 2018~





	1. The One with the New Roommate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C-chan (1001paperboxes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joly, Bossuet, and Chetta are looking for a way to make rent after an accident. Bossuet comes up with a solution, and the other two are all on board.

Making rent was going to be tricky. It would’ve been fine had Bossuet not fallen down the stairs and broken his leg. The medical bills were bad enough, but now the apartment had lost one of its two workers. Not that it was his fault. Bossuet was always breaking something or other. The other two had learned to set aside a little extra just in case a long time ago. Usually the three of them, Bossuet Joly and Musichetta, could scrape by from month to month. But there was no way Boss could go to work with a busted leg, and Joly had barely any time to work anymore what with his studies and internship. There was absolutely no way that Chetta’s feeble paycheck would be able to cover everything on its own.

  
The night they brought Boss home from the hospital, Chetta helped him into the bedroom, both of them laughing at the way they stumbled against the walls trying to make it. Joly stayed in the living room, picking at the cuffs of the sweater Feuilly had made him for his birthday with Jehan’s help. While he would love to watch the antics of trying to set Bossuet up in bed, he didn’t want the others to see him worry. He tried not to, but how could he not worry? There was no way they could make rent. All the way over from the hospital, he had been thinking of where they could cut some corners in their normal budget. Really, he had been trying to budget ever since Chetta got her paycheck a few days ago. There was no where they could cut that they hadn’t already. Asking some of the others for help wasn’t an option: they had their own expense to worry about.

  
He plopped down on their frayed couch that was this close to breaking in half, continuing to fiddle with his sleeves. Maybe he could pick up some shifts down at the walk-in clinic. All he had to do was find the time for it...whenever that was.

  
“Hey beau.”

  
Joly looked up. Musichetta, with her ever calming presence, came in and nestled onto the couch next to him. She gently took hold of his hands to stop him from further ruining the sweater. “What’s wrong?” She rubbed his hands to warm them. They had had to cut down on heating so the apartment was freezing.

  
“Nothing,” he sighed, head falling onto her shoulder, “I was just thinking about rent again,” he admitted shamefully.

  
“Beau, I told you, you don’t have to worry about that,” she hummed sweetly.

  
“How can I not, Chetta? It’s due in a week and we’re short!” Chetta didn’t respond. She knew he was right, but it was her job to help soothe him, not let it get worse.

  
“Just take some deep breaths. We’ll find something,” she reassured him, not quite sure that they would find something herself. Nevertheless, Joly nodded and did as Chetta said. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, willing his mind to go blank, willing the dread nestling itself at the back of his neck to disappear.

The next morning Bossuet hobbled into their kitchenette slash dining room using Joly’s old cane. "What are you doing out of bed?" Joly choked on his cereal, immediately going over to the grinning Bossuet. 

"I'm up!" he announced proudly, though he wobbled as he spoke. Chetta and Joly rushed to get him into a chair before he toppled over, which was more than likely to happen. They both gave a quick smooch to his forehead. Chetta glanced at the oven clock and took a few more bites of toast. 

"Alright, I have to go. I picked up an extra shift at the cafe," she swallowed thickly, "You got everything, beau?" Joly nodded, clearing some of the dishes.

"I'll make sure Boss doesn't kill himself," he joked, winking at the man in question. Bossuet blushed, busying himself with buttering up a piece of toast for himself. Chetta laughed and planted one more wet kiss on both of their cheeks before rushing out the door.

"See you in a bit!" 

Joly brought two cups of coffee over to the table, checking and double checking that they wouldn't be too hot. Bossuet beamed up at him and took the cup gratefully. The two nursed their mugs for a few minutes, waiting for one another to wake up a little more. 

"So," Bossuet finally put his mug down and scooted his chair closer to Joly, "Chetta's picking up extra shifts?" Joly looked up from his own mug. Bossuet was staring into his half empty cup, fingers tapping on his knee. He refused to look up. Joly reached under the table to take his hand. 

"Don't do that, Boss. She doesn't mind it, and I don't either. It doesn't matter, cause we love your clumsy butt," he squeezed his hand. Bossuet smiled, but shook his head. 

"No, it does matter!" he leaned forward, finally meeting Joly's eyes. "Listen, you guys shouldn't have to struggle because I tripped over another jump rope." Joly couldn't help snorting at that, Bossuet's blush deepening. "Anyways, I was stayed up all last night, well not  _all_ night, " he amended when Joly raised his eyebrows, "trying to come up with ideas for how to help with rent." Joly attempted to interject, telling Bossuet that all he needed to concern himself with was getting better quickly, but Bossuet continued on. "I was thinking, why don't we put out an add for a roommate? We have that extra room that I used when I first moved in, why not rent it out?" It wasn't a terrible idea. Actually, not terrible at all. It's not like the three of them ever used the extra space. It was the finding a new roommate that would be the trouble. Someone that they wouldn't have a problem with and someone who wouldn't have a problem with them and their special relationship. Joly shrugged and nodded. 

"I mean, whats the harm in trying? Let's just hope we have a taker by the end of the week."

Their add was answered surprisingly fast, especially considering how short the add was. It wasn't as if they had a the money laying around to put every detail in. Still, the next day they got a call about the extra room. The man on the other end of the line sounded a little more than exhausted, and certainly sounded as desperate as they felt. An appointment to meet and show the apartment was set up for later that day. Chetta was stuck on a shift, fighting to find a way to dip out for twenty minutes to meet the prospect roommate. With Bossuet's broken leg, tidying up the apartment was left to Joly. Not that it was dirty. Joly already did a pretty solid job at keeping the place clean and germ free. Bossuet tried his best to calm his boyfriend down from his position on the couch, where he had been confined on "doctor's" orders. "Joly, sweetheart, you have to calm down," Bossuet laughed, poking at him gently with the spare cane when he came within reach. JOly swatted the cane away before collapsing down next to him, setting aside their one decorative pillow that he had fluffed three times. 

"I know," he sighed, "It's just- this has got to work. We don't have a lot of other options if it doesn't." Bossuet opened his mouth, probably to offer some form of comfort by way of pun (Joly couldn't resist laughing at them, no matter the situation), but there was no time for that now. At the same moment Bossuet began to speak, a knock came at the door. They exchanged a look, of apprehension, or excitement, of anxiety. A second knock came a few seconds later. Joly jumped off the couch, seeing as Bossuet wouldn't be doing any jumping any time soon, and hurried over to the door. He swung the door open a little too quickly and the man on the other side stumbled forward a little. He nearly punched Joly in the nose, fist out from being mid knock when the door opened. 

"Euh, sorry," he grinned sheepishly, shoving the offending fist into his hoodie pocket. 

"No, no! It's fine, Joly moved to the side and gestured for the guy to welcome himself on in. After a moment's hesitation and a grateful nod, he shuffled in. He eyed Bossuet on the couch, leg in a bright pink cast. He waved back, not quite matching Bossuet's enthusiasm. 

"So," the guy turned back to Joly, taking his hands out of his pocket, fiddling with them, before sticking his thumbs through his belt loops, "Are you the guy I spoke to over the phone? Joly?" 

"Yeah, that me! R, right?" Joly asked, doubting he had heard him correctly over the phone. R nodded with a smile, shaking the hand Joly offered him. His knuckles were dark with bruises, his nails covered in multi-colored crust. It looked as if he had tried to do something with the mops of curls on his head, but they had evidently fallen back over his forehead. He had a certain likable quality. Not quite like Courfeyrac, who had more of a warm familiarity with everyone he met. This R person had more of a comradery through exhaustion kind of vibe. He wasn't going to lie to himself, the copious bruises were a little disconcerting. All he knew about this R guy was what he was told over the phone, the majority of which was when he could come over for an interview and tour. Even if he was some sort of miscreant, Joly didn't think he cared much at this point. As long as he wasn't too dirty, he was going to be fine. 

"And you are?" R asked, turning back to Bossuet. 

"Clumsy," Joly answered for him. Bossuet lightly tossed their pillow at Joly before introducing himself.

"Wicked cast man," R nodded, a grin spreading across his scruffy cheeks, "Can I sign?" Bossuet nodded excitedly and started to search his body for a pen, a useless process given that he was still in his snoopy pajamas. "I got it," R waved his hands for Bossuet to stop his search, whipping out a pen from his back pocket. He signed a large, messy R near Bossuet's ankle, along with a tiny sketch of a scraggly looking bird. An eagle, according to R. Joly could see Bossuet fall in love immediately. 

"Alright, so want the tour?" Joly suggested, after Bossuet had calmed down enough to let R go from their awful pun repertoire. R nodded, slipping his hands into his back pockets. 

"Lead the way." There wasn't much of a tour to be had, it wasn't as if they lived in Versailles. All the apartment consisted of was the living room, dining room, kitchen combination, and a narrow hallway with the two bedrooms and a bathroom. Most of the time they spent was the mini spare room where R would be staying. 

"Sorry, it's not the biggest," Joly gave an apologetic smile. 

"No, it's fine," R nodded, turning on the spot to give the space a once over. He stared for a moment at one of the corners before clicking his tongue. "So, do you-are you Beagle a couple? I kinda sorta noticed the lack of other rooms."

"Oh, yeah," Joly went a little red,"That. That's why it's a little harder to find someone to rent the room to. Not a lot of people are cool with us, Bossuet, Chetta and I."

R smiled and held up his hands, "Hey, it's all cool with me. You, beagle and...Chetta?" Joly let out the breath he was holding and nodded. It wasn't as if R had given some great speech about equality and acceptance, not like Enj had done when the three of them came out as official. Still, the scant words meant a lot in their simplicity. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, R turning away to give him some privacy. 

“So, did you want to ask me any questions?” R leaned against the wall, probably trying for something close to casualness. 

“Euh, sure!” Joly opened his mouth and nothing. No questions came to his mind. He just stood there with his mouth hanging open, R staring at him. Why couldn’t he think of any questions? Just a few minutes ago he had millions. R laughed a little and settled into his stance. 

“Well, I work most nights as an assistant in a nearby art gallery. Lighting paintings, publicity, that kind of stuff. That’s my main job. I have a few other odd jobs that keep me pretty busy, so you don’t have to worry me being in the way too much,” R constantly moved his hands as he talked: rubbing his face, putting them in and out of his pockets, tugging at his abundant curls. The comment about him “being in the way” didn’t slip Joly’s attention, but he decided to pocket that for later. After all, he was just meeting the guy. It wasn’t as if he had the right to hound him about being nicer to himself, no matter how much he wanted to. 

“What kind of stuff do you like to do when you’re not working?” Joly continued on, his mind sparked into action by R starting the conversation. 

“Euh, a few things. None of them really connect,” he laughed to himself, “I do some art myself, box, loaf around when I can,” he laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. Joly had to laugh too, which R seemed to relax a little at. 

“Well, we have no problem with that! I guess I just have a few more questions. Do you smoke?”

“Occasionally, but I won’t smoke here if that’s a problem.”

“Are you seeing anyone?” 

R laughed and folded his arms over his chest. “Why, you interested?” he winked playfully. Afterwards his face fell a little when he realized he just winked at the person who would be deciding if he moved in or not. 

Joly laughed and shook his head, “No, I was just wondering in case you ever wanted them to come over and needed the rest of us to make ourselves...scarce.”

“No need to worry about that. At all. Not too many people are eager to get with mug” R assured him, gesturing to his lumpy nose and dark eyebags. Joly severely doubted that. Sure, he wasn’t attractive in a conventional way, but he wasn’t hideous. Besides, he seemed way too interesting a person to stay single. A painter. A boxer. That explained the bruises and colorful nails. 

“Alright. Just one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“When can you move in?” R perked up, straightening off of the fridge. Once again, he didn’t know what to do with his arms. 

“What, are you serious?” he beamed, stumbling over his words, “Is the end of the week too soon?” Joly felt that he might dissolve right then and there out of relief. 

"End of week is perfect. Is having the money upfront for this month going to be a problem?" R shook his head quickly, still beaming. 

"Ok!" he clapped his hands together, "I've got some packing to do. I'll see you in a few days then?" Joly nodded and showed him to the door, both of them either too relieved or too excited to do any talking. The door closed behind R's retreating back with a click. Bossuet waived his cane, trying to get it to reach Joly so he could poke him again. Again, Joly batted at the cane so he could safely make his way to sit next to Bossuet, tucking his legs underneath him. 

"So?"

"We got a new roommate!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to fit a few puns and brick references in there. Sorry, if there's not a lot of them, but hey! There's always the next couple of chapters!


	2. The One with the Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first snow, so the Les Amis decide to have a snowman building contest. Told from Feuilly's perspective.

It started halfway through his shift. Little flakes began to swoosh past the windows of the cafe, first just the odd flurry. It wasn't long until the flakes grew fatter, painting the sidewalk outside white. Customers rushed in looking for any semblance of warmth, scarfs covering their faces. Feuilly watched the increasing storm with anticipation. If it got bad enough, that might mean the cafe would close early. Sure, it would be nice to stay for his entire shift and earn a few extra dollars. But just because he was always working didn't mean he liked it. So he kept one eye on the window and the other on the clock. It was impossible to guess which would win, time or weather. In the end, it was time. The cafe was nearly dead by the time his shift was up. Outside, it still looked like a blizzard was on the way. 

The Metro was, of course, packed. Nobody wanted to be out on the streets. Feuilly couldn't blame them. His feet ached as he stood in the middle of the car, pressed in on all sides. Even in his ragged coat, he began to heat up fairly quickly. It was a good thing that his stop was close. The poor man was falling asleep where he stood. From the station to the apartment was one block. He ran as best he could through the thick falling snow. Already he missed the warmth of the packed car, or behind the counter at work. However, nothing can beat the comfort of his apartment. 

The place always smelled sweetly dark and semi-smoky. Jehan made sure of that. Not that he or Bahorel minded. Over the last few years, the other two had adapted to the smells of ginger, eucalyptus, and the like. It was weird when the place didn't have the familiar aromas. Feuilly fumbled with his freezing keys before bursting through the door. All at once he was hit with the smell of peppermint and something burning. He stamped his feet on the doormat to rid his boots of any snow. "Baz!" he called out, shedding his coat, "Jehan!"

"In here!" an equally loud, but ever more dreamy voice called from the kitchen. Coincidentally, a slight cloud of smoke was emanating from the same place. He smiled, expecting the unexpected, a habit he had learned from living with the two for the last few months. He waved his hands in front of his face, coughing from the overwhelming smell of burnt cookies. Jehan was perched on the kitchen counter, waving their legs absently. A fire extinguisher was suspiciously sat next to him. Bahorel was fanning a smoking oven, some dark brown lumps set on top of it. 

"Hey," he leaned against the counter between the two, "what did you guys do today?"

"We made cookies," Jehan leaned their head on his shoulder. 

Feuilly laughed and eyed what might have been cookies resting on top of the oven. "I can see that. They look delicious."

"You bet your ass they are!" Bahorel announced, setting down the oven mitts he had been using to deplete the smoke. He broke off a piece of what looked like what used to be a Christmas tree and popped it into his face. He face scrunched up and the crunch as he tried to chew the cookie was covered by Feuilly and Jehan's snickers. "Yum," he grimaced. 

Together, the three of them cooked what was left of the dough, successfully this time. Then it was time for decorating. If it was possible, decorating was a bigger disaster than baking. Feuilly had icing in his goatee, Bahorel had sprinkles in some questionable places (none of them sure how they ended up there), and Jehan had edible spray paint on their cheeks. That last one was intentional. The cookies themselves were surprisingly beautiful. Feuilly knew his way around design and helped the other two when they wanted. Still, the apartment was blanketed in a slight film of smoke from the cookies. Usually the apartment was filled with a different kind of haze. Bahorel wiped the sprinkles from his lap and left the kitchen. 

"It's just not clearing!" he called on his way to the living room. "I'm gonna open a window for just a second."

"Wait, Baz!" Feuilly called back, twisting in his chair. Too late. A deafening howl came from the living room for a few seconds, followed by the slamming of a window. Jehan and Feuilly wandered into the front room. Almost like in a cartoon, a small pile of snow had seemingly attacked Bahorel's front. He peered through the darkened window and beckoned for Feuilly and Jehan to come join him. They all squished together, noses to the glass to try and see the street below. Nothing could be seen beyond the growing intensity of the storm. 

"If this keeps up, I don't think I'll have to go to work tomorrow," Feuilly mused, fogging up the glass. Jehan clapped their hands to his mouth to express his excitement. Bahorel breathed out a low, "Yesss," fogging up the glass even more. "You know what that means then," Bahorel straightened. The other two looked up at him and waited for him to elaborate. "Annual snowman contest. Guys, we gotta win this year." Feuilly jumped up.

"We have to start planning!"

Jehan stood with the other two, a fiery passion burning behind his eyes akin to the look Enjolras always sported. "I've been planning since last year," he informed them. They didn't doubt. 

Sure enough, the next morning, Courfeyrac had sent a message in the group chat:  _Today, 14h. Bring it on._ The promise of challenge hung in the morning air. The three roommates had stayed up most of the last night brainstorming a true showstopper, but the nervous energy kept them going all the way to morning. The annual snowman building contest had started three years ago. Originally, it was just a fun way for all of them to celebrate the first snowfall of the season. That first year came with little planning, but what they lacked in preparation they certainly made up for in competitiveness. The second year was chaos, with a very near account of blood shed (Bossuet, trying to help Joly sculpt their snowman, had a mishap with the tools). This year, this was going to be  _their_ year. Why? Because they had a phenomenal idea. The others didn't stand a chance. 

The afternoon rolled around, and they loaded themselves up with bags of sequins, some of Feuilly's pieces, Jehan's feather boa, and a few other accessories. They arrived a little later, everyone else already at the designated spot in the park. 

"Took you long enough," Courfeyrac called, muffled by the scarf covering half his face. Bahorel waved him away. 

"What can we say? Winners take more time to plan." There was a scattered response of oh's at the remark, everyone gearing up for what shaping out to be a truly epic contest. Combeferre gathered everyone in a tight circle so they could hear the familiar rules through earmuffs and hats. 

"Teams are decided by apartment. Each team has 30 minutes to build and design their snowmen. Afterwards, as always, Eponine has volunteered to be our impartial judge to pick the best snowman."

"And she will be spending those 30 minutes in the bar around the corner," Eponine interjected, looking about as happy to be out in the snow as she had been for the last two years. 

"Time starts now!" Courf yelled after everyone had a good laugh at Eponine's permanent grumpy morning attitude. He dragged Enjolras and Combeferre off a little ways and dived into the snow, gathering armfuls to start the base. Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and someone new that Feuilly hadn't met before wandered not too far off in the other direction. Feuilly's group stayed put. Everyone worked furiously to get their shapes made the fastest so more time could be spent on the decorating and designing. Feuilly had no idea what everyone else had in store, but if they were going to pull this idea off, they need to get the body built immediately. A majority of their time would be spent on the design. About ten minutes in to the contest, a distressed cry came from where Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta stood, accompanied with a hoarse laugh. All three of them had pushed the second ball up on the base with a little too much force. It had been shoved right over the top and fell, shattering in a few places. The stranger laughed and took a quick swig from his flask, only joining in to help when Chetta gave him  _the look._

Feuilly chanced a look over to where the "infamous" triumvirate, last years champions, were hard at work. Their snowman made no sense, probably Combeferre's doing. So far, all they had was a bunch of smaller balls in a squiggly pattern. Oh well. Let them do them. Feuilly already knew that they had the winning snowman. Jehan gently placed the head atop their snowperson. Now the real work could begin. Feuilly loved to create, and was actually a very skilled tailor and designer: skills he hardly got to use in other jobs. Despite his limited schedule, he had still managed to create quite a name for himself in the drag community, famous for his ability to create pieces for last minute emergencies. He made a habit of keeping a few extras around when needed. This habit was what was going to put them above the other teams this year. The three worked quickly with their piece of art. Jehan went looking for sticks, and was able to find the perfect ones to create some sassy arms. Feuilly and Bahorel arranged the pieces (head piece, Jehan's boa, a fan that Feuilly was particularly proud of, and sequins that Jehan would ultimately rearrange). 30 minutes flew by and the finished just before the timer went off. Their drag snow-woman was complete and she was bitchin. 

Jehan hurried to bring back a slightly less grumpy Eponine. She would never admit it, but she loved judging this goddamn event. First stop, the holy trio. Feuilly had to admit, their snowman was actually pretty clever. Well, snowbug. The squiggly line of balls had transformed into a fairly cute caterpillar. The caterpillar was definitely Combeferre's idea. The cute had probably been added on by Courfeyrac. "Nice creativity," Eponine admitted, "But too easy." Courfeyrac booed. Enjolras quieted him. 

Next, Eponine came to them. "Wait, oh my god, is this a drag snowman?" she laughed, her arms slipping a little from their folded position. 

"Snow-woman," Bahorel corrected. 

"Her name is Madame Rouge," Jean added. Enjolras snorted and attempted (unsuccessfully) to hide his smile in his scarf. 

"I love her," Eponine announced, "Unless the motley crew over there somehow came up with something better than this, I think we have our winner!" Courfeyrac walked over and draped himself over Jehan. 

"Okay, I don't hate losing if it's to Madame Rouge," he admitted. Enjolras nodded solemnly, a hit of a smile still gracing his lips. "True," he affirmed. Combeferre stood proudly by his caterpillar. 

"Euh, what is this?" Eponine laughed in disbelief. The stranger had seated himself on the ground in front of his group's creation, the others standing proudly behind it. It was lumpy, with no defining shape: just a snow mound with a carrot, coals, pipe, and buttons stuck in at random. He took a swig from his flask again, his cheeks slightly pink, probably from more than just cold, and stared Eponine straight on. 

"Pica-snow," he simply explained. There was beat before the group broke out in groans. Well, except for the odd few who loved a good pun. 

"Well, kudos, for your Pica-snow..." Eponine rolled her eyes, still smiling at the goofy bunch, "Did you guys do an awful job just to use that joke?"

"That and our snowman kind of fell apart," Joly shrugged. 

"Right," Eponine nodded, "Well, sad effort. Our winner is still Madame Rouge." Bahorel, Feuilly, and JEhan went absolutely ballistic, holding each other while jumping up and down next to their winner. Their joy was infectious, apparently because it wasn't long before the rest of Les Amis joined in their cheering. No one could deny the glory of Madame Rouge, the snow champion that would go down in Annual Snowman Building Contest history. 


End file.
